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The soft hum of the television filled the living room as Rody leaned back against the couch, one arm draped casually over Manon's shoulders. They were in their element, comfortable in the simplicity of being together, watching a late-night movie. Rody's laughter echoed lightly, infectious as always, making Manon smile. She nestled closer to him,warmth of his body against hers. It was moments like these that made her feel grounded, as if all the chaos of their lives could be paused with a simple touch.
But not everyone in the room shared their contentment.
Vincent sat on the edge of an armchair across from them, his dark eyes fixed on Rody with a quiet intensity. The shadows from the TV cast sharp angles across his young face, highlighting the furrow in his brow. He watched the way Rody's hand gently squeezed Manon's shoulder, the way Rody's gaze softened whenever he looked at her. It was unbearable.
Vincent knew it was wrong-knew that the way he felt about Rody was twisted and inappropriate. But knowing didn't make the feelings go away. In fact, it made them stronger, more desperate. He was obsessed, and the more he watched Rody adore his sister, the deeper that obsession grew.
"Vincent, are you okay?" Manon asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the room.
He blinked, realizing he hadn't been paying attention to the movie-or anything else for that matter. "Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
Manon gave him a concerned look but didn't push further. She was always like that-kind, gentle, understanding. She had been his rock ever since she took him in after CPS removed him from their parents' home. She was everything he should have wanted in a sibling, everything he should have looked up to.
But instead, he hated her. Or, more accurately, he hated what she had-what he could never have.
Rody.
Manon shifted slightly, her hand reaching up to stroke Rody's cheek, drawing a contented sigh from him. Vincent's stomach churned with jealousy. She made it all look so easy-being confident, being loved. She had no idea what it was like to be him, to feel so lost, so undeserving of the simplest affection.
Rody looked over at Vincent, and for a moment, their eyes met. Vincent felt a familiar rush of heat, a wild hope that maybe this time Rody would see him differently. But instead, Rody's expression remained unchanged, maybe even slightly annoyed.
"Vincent," Rody said, his tone polite but distant, "you've been staring at me all night. Is there something on your mind?"
Vincent's heart raced, his mouth going dry. He tried to play it off, shrugging as casually as he could manage. "Just spacing out, I guess. Sorry."
Rody nodded, but the way he quickly looked away, focusing back on Manon, told Vincent everything he needed to know. Rody thought he was weird-creepy even. It wasn't the first time Vincent had noticed that look in his eyes, the slight edge of discomfort that appeared whenever they were alone together. It was humiliating.
"Maybe you should get some sleep," Manon suggested, her voice warm with concern. "You've been studying all day. You need to rest."
Vincent wanted to scream, to tell her to stop treating him like a child, but he bit his tongue. Instead, he nodded, standing up slowly. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he muttered, avoiding looking at Rody. "Goodnight."
"Night," Rody replied absently, his attention already back on the movie and on Manon.
Vincent walked towards the stairs, feeling the weight of their indifference pressing down on him. He paused at the foot of the steps, glancing back one last time. There they were-wrapped up in each other's arms, a picture of perfect contentment. It should have been a beautiful sight, something to make him happy for his sister. But all he felt was bitterness.
